Vindicated
by Nite-Lights
Summary: They say, long ago, there were more islands, more lands, and more life. But now there is only this. And I know that while this island is my home, it is not where I belong. It is not my life, and through all the lies, and stories, and proclamations that we are on our own in this great wide world, I know there is more out there, and I will strive to find a way out if it kills me.
1. Chapter 1

**-PART I-**

_"Any fool can get into an ocean _

_But it takes a Goddess _

_To get out of one."_

_-Jack Spicer_

* * *

Chapter 1.

I am twenty-six. I know very well now some things I could not know when I was younger. I know now, that my mother had not died until well after a wealthy lord whisked her away from my father and me years ago. I know that while she is not biologically related to me, and while some days I hate her very much, my step-mother has done more motherly things for me than I could ever beg of her to do. I know my half-brother is the most irritating thing I have ever encountered, but still I would not trade him for anything. And I know that while this island we live on is my home, it is not where I belong. It is not my life, and through all the lies, and stories, and proclamations that we are on our own in this great wide world, I know more than anything else that this island, called Castle Rock by its inhabitants, is not the only one. There is more out there, and I will strive to find more until my very last breath.

Every night I find myself sitting atop the largest hill our island has to offer. They say, long ago, there were more islands, more lands, and more life. But now there is only this. We are the last of what was once a great wide world and we are lucky. Our king saved us—being as clever at magic as he was, and loving us so dearly, he spared us from the collapse that brought all life to ruin. He lives in his castle, attached to our little slice of heaven by a particularly treacherous set of crags, constantly beat against by the thrashing waves that batter the shore line and take a little more of our home each year. They say that all alone in his castle, the king is devising a way to save us yet again. To stop the deterioration of our home and make sure that human life is not extinguished completely. He wants us to thrive, to expand, to live, but how can we do that when there is only this? Even he—benevolent and all knowing, insists that this is all there is. We must find a way to cope, and love each other, and fall in love with what limited options there are, and populate, and grow, but we must do this on an island no bigger than five miles around. Where everyone knows everybody and each person is extremely invested in the business of everyone else, it is nearly impossible to find any lick of privacy, or even anyone who you don't know like the back of your hand and tolerate enough to consider marrying.

But atop this hill, I find my privacy. I find my quiet and my little piece of this god-forsaken bit of earth that is mine alone and no one can interrupt me, or stop me from having thoughts. And it is here I find the lights that come on long after the last candle has burnt out in the town. They flicker just on the horizon, and burning as bright as the stars that litter the night sky, they shine through the night, ever present, and infallible and incontrovertible proof that there is something else out there. But still I am told that it is not true.

They say—and by 'they' I mean the elders here, the parents and grandparents, the widows and spinsters, the ones who remember a time when one could travel—that the lights are ghosts; memories of the city lights that used to sit there. The souls still trapped there because they know nothing else, or where to go now that they are gone. I say they are liars, and the lights _are_ there, and they are cities and towns and places to go to. They are as real as I am and I will see them. Not only will I see them, but I will experience them for myself. I will walk among them and the buildings they inhabit. I will meet the people that live in them and I will not turn back once I get off this island.

The only trick to it, is figuring out how. Down on the shore, half buried in the sands, there are a few shipwrecks from centuries passed. But they are so old and worn down, bruised and broken by years of weather and abuse, that even the most skilled craftsman or shipwright could not fix them. They are immediately out of the question. Though the idea of fixing up a clipper and sailing off into the sunset is very romantic, it is far-fetched and more importantly, impossible. I cannot ask someone, as the last time I did that, I became the laughingstock for harboring such ridiculous dreams. Even now, I can sometimes hear snickers and hushed words about how much of a silly dreamer I am. These people can't let go of anything, can't see the forest for the trees, or beyond their own noses for that matter. It's not that they cannot believe there is something else out there. It is that they do not want to. They, all of them, are so ready to accept this simple life, this absolution that any idea of escape, of something different, of a grand adventure, is folly, and even more so, it is a child's aspiration. It is something shameful for a woman of my age.

I watch the lights for a while longer, the night wearing longer and colder as a breeze off the ocean sifts through my hair. It hangs loose around my shoulders now, though normally it is tied up, constricted, like everything else I know. But soon, the cold sends me home. The largest house on the far end of Castle Rock, there is a dim glow coming from the bottom window. My father left a candle for me. He was thoughtful, though sometimes he did not show it. Often, he did not show it…at least not to me. My step-mother, absolutely, she was the light of his life; the woman who saved a poor wretch who had been abandoned with a toddler to care for. My brother, yes, he could do no wrong in his eyes. Me, he has grown accustomed to, tired of. He knows that I know he cares, and that is enough. Sometimes I am lucky to get a smile from him, or a quick embrace, but it doesn't happen often. This is why things like this cause me to smile. It is, in his own way, a sign of his affection, for a daughter who is quickly becoming the joke of the town.

I go to bed with my head swimming. Grand visions of life outside the green grasses and the muddy footpaths I have known my whole life. In flashes, I am presented with images of shining structures, taller than the castle on the rocks from which our homes moniker derives, standing in groups and brightly lit. I dream of bustling cities crammed with people, and beyond the shining walls and loud voices, a sturdy stone structure, old by comparison, with a fire place and a window strewn with books. I hold tightly to them come morning. They are all I know of the outside world, but they are evidence of something more. I can't have just dreamt up entire cities and homes. While I pride myself on being clever, I am not so clever that these dreams come every night, and they are presented in brief, vivid flashes, like looking through a book of pictures. They are snapshots of a life I could know. A life I will soon know. As always, I write down what I can remember, and tuck the journal back into the drawer in my bedside table before meeting my family downstairs.

* * *

They are all awake before me, as usual, and their disapproving eyes tell me that they wish I would stop staying out so late. I have duties here I must tend to, and my actions are irresponsible at best.

"Another late night, Sarah?" My father asks, as if he does not already know the answer. I smile at him in response and nod sheepishly, pouring myself a cup of tea before taking my seat at the table and helping myself to some bread. My step mother rolls her eyes, but smiles all the same. 'How adorable.' It says. She thinks I am naïve and a bit addled, likely from my lack of social interaction. I'd much rather stay at home with my books and dreams then go fishing for a husband.

"And where was it this time? Were you with anyone?" She asks, hoping as always, that my answer will change from the last time I was asked this. But still it is the same.

"The hill, and no, I was by myself. I can't bring myself to share the only place I can get a bit of peace around here." I smirked, taking a long sip from my mug, my smug expression only irking them further. Under his breath, I hear my brother mention something about how that will change, and it piques my interest.

"What was that?" I ask, turning to direct every ounce of attention to him. Toby looks up with wide eyes, regretting instantly that he even spoke in the first place. A murmured 'nothing' was offered in place of an explanation. I look then, to my parents, who are trying to look everywhere but at me. Something is wrong here, and my heart begins to race. What was it they were not telling me?

"What is it?" I ask, not quite on the verge of pleading, but getting there at an alarming rate. Still, I receive no response. Every time they get like this, it is because they have found a suitor for me. One I will outright turn down because I have known him since I was five, and would rather eat rocks than spend time with them. Rolling my eyes, I stuff the last bit of bread into my mouth and help myself to another slice, this time it is laden with butter and honey. My step-mother would disapprove, but I could care less.

"If it's another suitor, you can just send him away right now. No one here interests me remotely, and I'm sure I hold no interest for them other than a dowry." I said sourly through a mouthful of food.

"Oh Sarah, don't talk with your mouth full, it's disgusting." My step-mother scoffs, finally giving me a bit of attention. I smiled at her and took another bite, watching to gauge her reaction. A small pleasure in life was annoying her, though I know she did not deserve it.

"So what is it?" I ask, setting my food down and waiting now, patiently, for a proper response. We sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, but soon, my father reached behind him to retrieve a slip of parchment. Creased from folding and unfolding, my father gripped it tightly and stared at it for a moment before passing it across the table to me. With it came a nervous feeling in my stomach and a clammy touch to my hands. It had the King's seal on the back, and my name on the front. This was rare indeed. And when a message was received from his majesty, it was never good news.

What made him such an enigma was that no one had ever seen him. All we knew was what was provided. He spared us from destruction, and watches over us with a harsh kindness. That while our island is slowly being destroyed by the elements, he is working on a solution. But all of that could be pure speculation in the end. All we know is that he is our ruler, and that we should trust him completely. I don't even think anyone knew his name. We only knew his seal because occasionally, when something happens that he does not approve of, he sends word that he is unhappy, and should he continue to be, the consequences will be dire. The man was a force, and we were humbled to be taken care of by him.

"A letter from the king?" I asked, my fingers shaking, along with my whole hand, as I hesitated opening it. My mind began to race with anything I could have done wrong. Perhaps all my dreaming had reached his ears, and he was displeased with me. My father cleared his throat, and my brothers eyes were trained on the letter, as though he were expecting it to do a trick. Worse still, was that tears were pricking at my step-mothers eyes. And my own, it turned out. Prolonging the moment no further, I slid my index finger under the seal, separating it from the crisp parchment, and unfolded it. Inside, there was a small letter, folded once in half, and thick enough that I couldn't see the ink on the other side.

I had come to terms with the fact that it would be a reprimand, which was all we had known would come from the castle. But upon opening the letter, reading its contents, I couldn't have been more surprised. I think, for a moment, I had stopped breathing. Something unprecedented had happened. There weren't even stories about this happening ever, and in a town where telling stories was a way of life, that was something. I looked up to meet the eyes of my audience, all three of them sitting on pins waiting for my words. All expecting to hear that I was in trouble and it was finally being addressed. But I wasn't. It wasn't a reprimand at all, but a way out.

Inhaling tentatively, I set the letter down and folded my hands over it, pressing them to the table until my knuckles turned white. With ragged breath, I met my parents' eyes and spoke at last.

"The King wants to see me."

* * *

The entire day of my summons arrival, I was entirely captivated and preoccupied by it. Not quite a demand, there was always the option of not going, but if I backed out, I would gain even more of a reputation of the laughingstock here. Not only was I a silly dreamer who refused to grow up in the eyes of all of my elders and superiors, but I would be not only the only person to ever receive an invitation to the King's castle, but I would be the only person to turn him down. Weighing my options kept me silent all day, and restless all night. Tossing and turning, and eventually realizing that I would not sleep, I crawled out of bed at an hour that was late enough to be considered early by some people and tread softly across the cold floor. Not bothering to change into anything warmer, or even find some stockings to roll over my feet, I slid on my shoes and grabbed a shawl to cover my shoulders, and headed for my hill.

At night, the tall grasses grow wet with dew. It's normally hot here; throughout the year the temperatures during the day never fall below a pleasant warmth, and often exceed an uncomfortable heat where all your clothes stick to you, along with the hair at your neck. But at night, it is cool, and it is quiet. You can hear the waves lapping against the shore, and the fisher gulls crying out at the sight of a late night meal, though most of them are asleep, like the rest of the village. While they would normally hold every ounce of my attention, tonight the lights on the horizon seem dim and far away. They do not occupy my thoughts, and in their place looms the dark spires and towers of our sovereign's home. I turn away from my usual view and cast my eyes to the very structure I am thinking of. In the light of the moon and stars it looks especially dark, more than it does in the day, a massive shadow against the eerie pale grounds behind it.

The castle sits on what would be another half of Castle Rock. Probably just as large around, the castle is the only building on that half, behind it, I would assume is empty land. I can never quite see it, even though the castle is not so big that it would hide it from my sights. The entire business of the King and his home is quite the mystery. In our entire history, we've only ever had one king—unless there is a family that is terribly secretive about their business—and no one has ever seen him, nor spoken of anyone having seen him. All we know, as if it was engraved into our memories, is that he is our benevolent protector, our savior, and we must of course, obey him. Though he never sets rules, or sends royal decrees, or anything. We have never seen hide nor hair of him, and for a while, I suspected that there was no one there at all, and someone just made up a story of a king to keep us all in check.

And yet, when he his displeased, he sends word via letter, and now, this; an invitation to his home, to meet him. What had I done to warrant his attention, I wonder. It seems odd, but all the more alluring. What I don't understand, even more than his request for my presence, is why it is bothering me so much in the first place. Something about meeting him was sending up every red flag. In the end, it only made me want to investigate more, though my instincts were telling me to stay far away. This confliction was the grounds for keeping me up, and I desperately needed to sleep.

Before long, the sun was rising, and it was brought to my attention that I had sat for hours, my eyes trained on the castle, but my mind a blank. I blinked, my eyes feeling quite like paper, and stood up, creaking bones and a sick chill running through my spine. I would regret this come daylight, when I would be forced to wake. But in my absent state, I had come to a decision, and when I woke, I would be prepared to voice it.

I was granted the gift of three hours of sleep, passing out as soon as my head hit my pillow and waking as Toby burst into my room and threw a biscuit at me. I shot up to yell at him, but he was already darting down the hallway, laughing uproariously and tossing a sharp comment about the assault being my punishment for sneaking out again. If being a 26 year old woman who is perfectly able to do what she wants when she wants qualifies as 'sneaking out', that is. I dragged myself out of my room at a snail's pace and met my family at the table. The same routine every single day, as it turned out. It was perhaps all the more reason to stick to my decision, in the end. I sat down, and as if on cue, my parents and brother turned to me, each wearing a very expectant expression. They wanted an answer, no surprise. All of them were for it, they wanted me to go and take in every single detail, come back, and tell them all about it. The castle, the king, what he wanted. This was the most excitement they had ever had, as it turned out, and they weren't even the ones experiencing anything. They wanted to live vicariously through my adventure. Luckily for them, I wanted this adventure.

I sighed deeply and folded my hands on the table. My eyes traced the grain of it for a minute, trying to collect a thought, but none would come to me other than to just outright answer them.

"I'll go." I murmured, looking up at them tentatively. "To see the king…I'll go. I can't exactly tell him no, can I? So…that's it." I said with much finality as my family burst into grins. How bad could it be, after all? I didn't even know what he wanted yet.

"In the letter, he said he would send a footman to collect me at the shore in three days' time. So, I guess we get to play the waiting game now." I informed them, smiling nervously.

The wait was going to be the worst part.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

In the village, there is a rather large board in the center of town, where residents can post big events and news. Weddings, deaths, births, funerals, birthday celebrations, the list goes on. In Castle Rock, the eviction of kidney stones could make the board, but this, the most important thing that has happened in my life so far, and the most peculiar thing I'm sure this place has ever seen, did not post. Not that I needed the attention, I was already the talk of most people for how ridiculous I was, this would simply give them something else to speculate over.

For three days I was a wreck. I had no idea what to do with myself, with my time, with anything. My step-mother fawned over me, deciding how to fix my hair, what dress to wear, what shoes. Eventually she decided on the shoes she wore for her wedding to my father, the dress that I wore to it, and to wear my hair mostly down, with a braided crown adorned with flowers. I felt like an idiot, so decorated and frilly, but I let her have her way, she felt important then, and like she was doing something for me that I couldn't otherwise do myself. In that case, she was right, I would have just worn a dress I wear all the time and left my hair in a simple braid, as was custom. I was unwed, after all, and to wear my hair down, free, I felt like I was walking to my wedding as I made for the coast the morning I was to depart.

They let me go by myself, my family. My father kissed the top of my head and wished me luck (rare for him, as I have mentioned before), and for the umpteenth time, I was reminded by my step-mother to make good memories, and keep accounts of everything I saw, everything I heard, so I could come back with plenty of stories. It would be a first, that she indulged my storytelling, but how else would she come to learn what the King was like? It was my brother's farewell that was the most genuine. He hugged me tightly and told me to be careful, and handed me a small stuffed bear I could tuck in to my pouch. For good luck, he said. Where he got the toy, I have no idea, I had never seen it before, and I was sure my father didn't get it for him as while he loved the boy dearly, he was now asserting his opinion that Toby was entirely too old for toys now that he was a mature eleven, almost twelve. Still, I tucked the token into my bag, and left the house as the sun was rising.

The walk down to the beach, though normally a short one, felt like ages, each step instilling in me a pang of dread more powerful than the last. At the shore line, I hesitated before meeting my destination. Where grey sands met the dark blue of the ocean, there was a boat. A small one, indeed, though sturdy looking even from far away. It waited just past the sand, rocking in the light waves. For a moment, I was sure I was to expect something else. This was just a boat. No oar, no one to steer it, just the boat. But there was nothing else, no sign that anyone else was coming. Cautiously, I moved towards it, still expecting to see something else, perhaps there was an oar in the boat, or a stick to push myself across, but the closer I got the more sure I was that this was all I was getting, and that I should just accept it. In fact, by the time I reached it, any sense of dread or fear, even the nervous shaking in my hands had all but vanished. Perhaps it was the adrenaline kicking in, the rush of going on an adventure, of leaving the island finally, after all the times I wished I could.

The boat itself was charming. Smooth wood, inlaid with old runic designs of whose origin I could not place, and a seat that was padded, covered in thick red velvet. It was very curious, for a boat. It would be miserable should the fabric get wet, but the inside was dry as a bone. I wasn't sure for some time what to do other than stare at it, to run my hand along its smooth surface, or trace the symbols with my fingertips. Eventually though, I stepped in, hardly able to resist just sitting, even if it would take me nowhere. I could at least wait, stay here a while, listen to the waves, and then go back home, with some story about how the King was too busy to see me. Of course he was, he was King after all. And he had probably forgotten all about the note he sent me. But no sooner had I sat down had the boat lurched precariously, a wave carrying it farther back from the shore, and farther still, until even if I wanted to, I could not go back.

* * *

Pushed forward by the waves and currents, the boat rocked on lazily, until the shore where I stood moments before was a line in the distance, and I was much farther out than I thought I had to be. But behind me, looming in great shadows against the sun was the Kings Castle, and the other half of our island. So I really was going to meet him, after all. The reality of it set in as I was propelled forward by this enchanted craft. It seemed strange that magic was so prevalent all of the sudden, and was just now drawn to my attention, when throughout our history, we are told that our king was great with magic, and even saved our land using it. But we never even considered that it existed. No one on the island was magically inclined, in fact, we were all terribly ordinary, and somewhere in the back of our mind, we all knew it existed, and yet none of us ever sought out means to harness it. It was strange now, to think about it, and silly, when all along we could have been benefiting from it and bettering ourselves.

It took a long time, an hour or more once I had left the shore, to come to rest at the other end of the island. Here, the sands were almost white, instead of the greyscale we had on our side, and the grass leaned more towards brown here, than green, or anything resembling grass for that matter. I left the boat cautiously, my hand lingering on the bow for just a moment longer to regain my balance, and turning my face up, was frozen by the spectacle. This side of the island was enormous. From a distance, it looked perhaps just the same size as our half, maybe even a little smaller since most of it was castle grounds, but here, standing on its banks, this could pass for a whole new world. The beach stretched on for miles, vanishing into a point before I could find its end, and the rolling grasses long extended past my line of vision. There was more here than anyone could ever gather in just one viewing. It would take days to explore all of it. On our side, I could walk the entire span of the island in an hour—two if I was feeling particularly lazy that day.

Once I had gotten over the initial shock, I began to make my way inland. Very cautiously, and slower than anyone would have liked were they waiting on me, but I figured since I am meant to be some sort of guest, I can take as long as I please in getting there. Once off the beach, there was a very clear path that I was meant to take, the road packed firm with dry red soil. Strange, how this all can be a part of the same land mass, and yet the conditions are so different. Where it was constantly soggy on my end, and green and mossy and full of life, here everything held red hues, and seemed to be slowly withering away. The path wound up a small hill, and over it, and cresting it at a more brisk clip than I had been walking, I found that once over the hill, I was not alone. There was a thing watching me. A strange, deformed little something, covered with knobs and boils and a very unpleasant shade of green all around. It had sparse white hair on the top of its peculiar little head, and limited teeth that poked out of its mouth in a manner that had to be uncomfortable. The word 'Goblin' came to mind, but I had never seen this creature anywhere. How would I know its name?

It smiled at me, at least, I think it was a smile. It could have very well been a grimace, or gas even, and beckoned with tiny stubs for fingers that I should follow it.

"You want me to go with you?" I asked, making absolutely sure I was right in assuming before I followed this strange little thing. It nodded, and with a grunt and a very wet cough to clear its throat, chirped "this way to Kingsey, come, come Sarah-lady." So the thing knew my name…and yet here I was not even sure what to address it as. Still, I had no one better to trust, so follow I did, down more of the cracked dirt road as we approached the castle. Thankfully, the castle was the only impressive thing to train my eyes on. The scenery here was depressing at best. There was not even a whisper of life the closer we got to our destination. Even the nests in the leafless trees were empty. Everything seemed to have given up living here, except the goblins, and the king. It seemed strange that it should be so sad here, when there was someone living here to at least put an effort into revitalizing it. Did the king not care at all what happened? I wanted to find out, now, more than what the king looked like, or how he behaved, I wanted to know why he had let this place fall to ruin.

How disappointed my parents would be, to find out that our side of the island was the better half.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

At the top of a hill that from a distance does not look like it exists, sits the grand castle of our king. It is a massive thing, all spires and spikes, twists and turns, turrets and towers, and it is a solid black, some of his higher corners glimmering in the sunlight. I wonder for a moment, who decided to make a castle black in this heat, as I would assume that it would absorb everything and make the inside quite like an oven, but perhaps it was the only resource available in such quantity. Or perhaps, like the king is said to be himself, the structure is magicked, and not at all to be considered for expectations to be met. My tour guide did not falter in step or speed; he kept us going at a reasonable clip, suggesting that perhaps we were in a bit of a hurry. But I could not imagine why…I was at the kings disposal for as long as he would have me, and though I was terribly nervous, I could not imagine what he would like the process sped up for. As the only kingdom left, there wasn't any business he had to attend to, I'm sure.

I took a moment to pause, however, when we reached the top of the hill, and the bridge to our destination. In turning to see just how far we had risen, and how tiny my village might have looked, I was entirely shocked to see that there was no village to speak of. At least not one I could see. We couldn't have been that high up that it was hidden amongst fog or cloud or haze, but it was nowhere to speak of, like it never existed at all. What stretched before me were massive plains of brown, dying grass, and a winding stretch of dirt that might have once been a riverbed. Where the ocean should have been on the horizon there were mountain caps and a low hanging wall of grey clouds. My head spun, and my gut flipped over several times. I could not understand—could not comprehend how this was possible. How it was possible, first of all, and how it seemed like I had seen this all before. This sight, this land that stretched out before me was something I felt was familiar, and yet, I knew I had never seen so much land. All I've ever known is my island.

I must have been staring for too long, as the goblin at my waist started to tug at the sleeve of my dress, urging me forward. It muttered under its breath in rather rasping tones that I should hurry up, that it had better things to do, that I was slow. I wanted to kick the creature to teach it a lesson in manners, but that would in turn, be counter effective. Kicking people was terribly impolite, after all. Still, I bit my tongue and held to my reserve, and followed him. There was a small bridge in-between us, covering a rather large crack that would make the terrain otherwise impassible. It was a rickety little thing, but the goblin crossed as though it were made of stone or steel, so I followed, trusting that it would hold. As I reached the other side, a monumental wave of nausea and nerves struck me. I was terrified to see the king. What if he was angry with me? What if he intended to punish me, or make me more of a laughingstock than I already am? He could be utterly horrifying and cruel in every aspect, or he could be kind and gentle. There were so many unknowns here, and the closer I got to resolving them, the more I began to fret.

Inside, the castle was cool and dark. The walls, unlike the exterior of the castle, were a soft grey, dappled here and there with torchlight. Staircases wound up and down everywhere I looked, and the doors were innumerable on the first floor alone. I could not imagine how many rooms this building harbored in total, and if it were me leading the way, I would get lost in an instant. Luckily, the goblin knew where he was going, and we passed several doors and staircases before entering a small, inconspicuous door in the back, and entered a dark hallway. It was darker than the main foyer anyway, as at least that was lit with flame. Here, there was only shadow. Within moments though, a small pulsing light emitted from the palm of the goblin, his stubby fingers curled around the base. I exhaled in wonder, my eyes trained on it, wondering where its source was. He held nothing, there was no substance, and I knew I was witnessing magic at work. So fixated was I on the small wonder, that I nearly missed out on seeing what speckled the walls around us. Paintings of rulers past looked out at us with cold stares and vacant expressions. Turning around for but a moment, I could see in the receding light that we had passed several paintings that I had been too captivated to see, but now, looking at them closely, I could see at least a small portion of this places history. For some reason, seeing past monarchs put me at ease. Then it wasn't true, that this one king had ruled for eternity. Just for a very, very long time, it would seem, as the portraits stopped about 1000 years ago. Perhaps they had just decided to stop painting them.

Once out of the hallway, which seemed to stretch on forever, the brightness of the next room was almost blinding. To protect my eyes as much as I could, I held my hand up to my eyes, shading them until they adjusted. To my surprise, the room was no brighter than the first room I was in, in fact, it was possibly darker. This said worlds about the lack of light in that hallway, I thought, and whoever designed this place should have considered that when they were making it. After I could properly see, I found that the little goblin had in fact, left, and I was alone in what I could only assume was a meeting room, an audience chamber if you will. It was large, with rounded walls and a massive stone based throne in the back, sitting atop a raised platform. It was with the throne I noticed that everything here was stone or wood. Now, we are a small island, and unless everything I saw prior to entering the castle was a delusion, this part was larger than the entire island should be, but we have metal. Not much, it is only what we clung onto after the tragedy that tore the land asunder, but we have it. So why is the king not utilizing it? It would be far more practical for at least the candle fixtures and lanterns, and sconces holding the torches.

In between the door I entered from and the throne where no king sat, there was a rather curious pit. To call it a pit would be giving it too much credit, though, as I imagine pits to go much deeper than this did, but it had three ledges down to the base, It was empty, and the same slate grey as the rest of the walls, save for a few darker grey patches—stains of some kind. I examined it further, stepping down into it, running my hand along the cold exterior. It felt like it was meant for purposes of brawls, but there was no sign of struggle or defeat. I climbed back out, surprised at how steep it really was once at the base level, and proceeded to the throne, wanting next to take a closer look at it. It was hard angles and rough edges, nothing that would even remotely suggest comfort, save for a rather plush cushion at the seat. It, like the walls, and floors and the pit, was steely grey, and spoke little of the character of this king, or little of anything. It was crude in structure, like someone had assembled it because they knew there had to be a throne if there was going to be a castle. It held no adornment, no trinket or bauble, nothing to suggest wealth or power. The throne was cold, as was this room, and this castle, and that perhaps, spoke volumes where nothing else would utter a syllable.

I felt sad then. Sorry, that whoever this supposed great man was had nothing to speak of to bring substance to his name. I wondered if perhaps he felt he had no reason to flourish his name and put on a show, as we were the only subjects he had or would have. And when you hide yourself away from your people, what need have you to impress them? As long as one weaves stories of ones greatness to spread amongst them, so they know of your greatness, one really doesn't have to appear great ever. It pained me to know that perhaps our great king had stopped trying, or caring for that matter, which was why all alone up here in his castle he had not even the slightest glimmer of joy or decoration. Perhaps he was tired of it all. I began to make a martyr out of him, and I hadn't even met him yet.

* * *

As I ran my hand along the arm of the throne, picturing the weary, lonesome monarch reclined, his legs propped up where my hand lie, his head tilted back in boredom, I heard a very distinctive cough come from behind me, a person clearing his throat. My blood ran cold then, and I think for a moment I stopped breathing. Frozen for longer than was acceptable, I turned on my heel and wide eyes fell on a tall, slender man, with golden hair that met his shoulders and dressed as though he had just finished a session of horse riding. Black pants and riding boots of the same color, and a loose, dark red shirt, buttoned at the wrists to accommodate the leather gloves he wore. As soon as I regained my senses (far too long a moment was spent just staring at the man, unfortunately) my knees hit the ground, head bowed in respect and deference. This was the king, after all, and I couldn't gawk at him like an idiot. Still, even as I averted my eyes and muttered my 'your majesty' in greeting, it felt wrong. Like I—of all people—shouldn't bow to this man. In my gut, it felt degrading on my part, but I think this too was nerves. I had never met someone so high in stature. I had never even met a duke, or a lord! But here was the king approaching me with a furrowed brow and a quick step.

"Rise you silly girl. I haven't got the time or patience for your groveling." He barked, his voice a mixture of irritation and contempt. He hadn't the time? But he summoned me here! What other grand plans did he have than to accept his visitor? I stood though, my legs quite unsteady beneath me, and turned to face him, taking as many steps back as I could before I would meet the edge of the pit. The man sat, sitting first upright, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped in front of him as he studied me. His mouth was drawn tight, ready to stretch into condescending grin or sneer at any moment, and his eyes were cold, one an icy blue, the other a muddied, darker version of the same blue, the pupil in a constant state of dilation. I began to fidget under his scrutiny. He said nothing, he never moved, he only stared, his strange eyes boring into me until all of the sudden, he leaned back, and reclined in the throne, slinging his legs over the left side arm, just like I had imagined he would.

"I've heard a lot about you, Sarah." He said. He had a high voice, not girlish or squeaking, but high. I always imagined monarchs to have deep, booming voices.

"You have, Majesty…" I replied. It was not a question; I was by no means surprised. Of course he had heard stories, they were the reason I was here.

"I'm sorry…" I said, averting my eyes from him. I knew enough of monarchs and royals that we were not supposed to look at them for long periods of time. What was he expecting though? If it was just an apology, I would be done here by now. But from the way he stared and smirked, he wanted something different.

The king shook his head, the smirk still plastered across his face. It was irritating at best, what on earth was so amusing to him? He began to tap his fingers on the arm of the chair his back was against, suggesting he was searching for words for his proposition, or, alternatively, he could just be drawing this out to make me squirm. He now seemed like a person who would do that.

"Am…I in trouble, Your Majesty?" I asked, braving the consequences of speaking when not permitted to. But he shook his head, touching gloved fingers to his lips in contemplation.

"No, you are not." He said briefly. So I wasn't in trouble, then what, pray someone tell me, was I here for? I was becoming more confused and more annoyed by the second, and where he knew I wanted answers, I knew he was drawing out giving them to me. He had no obligation to surely, but it would have been a kindness. I sighed though, relieved that at least I was not in any trouble, as my family had suspected. I too, had suspected it for a time, and nodded my acknowledgement of it. I was thankful that at least he had granted me that knowledge.

The silence drew on, and I began to find different things to look at. There were five doors leading out of this room, and above, close to the domed ceiling which was impossibly high up, there was a series of small rounded windows. They were all placed in a way so clever that should the sun shine through any of them, they would cast a light directly on the kings throne, drawing more attention to him. Eventually, he spoke again, my attention snapping to him at once.

"What is it you hope is out there, when you sit late at night on the hill? How many times would be enough to inform you that we are all there is?" He asked, a forced sadness to his voice. I should feel bad for imagining other life, it suggested. I should appreciate that I at least have this, and should not dream of something better. This was the best I could hope for. I shrugged and looked down at my feet, my lips curling into a frown.

"Just…something more, Your Majesty. Something else. For a long time now, I've imagined there is more, and I just can't shake that feeling." I explained. But they were just dreams and fantasies, he would say. They were mere delusions of someone who was tired of being cooped in the same cage for her whole life. It was natural, he said, to want more, but my very obvious longing to find more was upsetting everyone.

"I don't mean to upset anyone…" I sighed, replying to him sadly. "They're just dreams. I don't mean any harm by them. What is so wrong about wanting something more?" I asked, chancing to look at him once more. As far as I could tell, as long as I didn't act on them, act on impulse, I wasn't doing any harm. His eyes met mine for just a moment, but in that brief exchange I only wanted to look away. Holding eye contact with him was an unsettling thing, as it turned out.

"I know you don't, and yet, daily, you are upsetting the good people of your home." He said, his tone calm, but clearly chastising. I instantly felt bad, which I think was his goal all along, and hung my head once more, staring at the ground, apologizing. He fell silent again, and it was awful. It was waiting for an absolution that I knew I would hate, but likely have to accept. Something was about to happen that would change everything. I could feel it in the way my heart kept skipping beats and the fact that my hands and the back of my neck had gone cold and clammy.

"I have a proposition for you." He said finally, standing up rather abruptly and crossing the small distance between us. He angled his head slightly and used two of his fingers to lift my chin up to look at him. I could tell instantly that he was going about this with great reserve. He was being very careful around me, and I couldn't place why.

"Your Majesty." I responded. What else could I say, after all? He was king, and anything he suggested, I would have to accept. This whole situation did not sit right with me, in the end, but I could not refute him. To refute him would be sending me to my own death.

He took a step back and inhaled deeply, surveying me once more, like he too was deciding what exactly my punishment should be.

"This castle lacks the life of a dreamer. It has been only myself, and of course, the goblins, for too long. You long for a life outside the village, and I am offering to give you one." He began.

"Stay here in the castle, under my employ, of course. Your tasks will be minimal, but if you have noticed, being one person here I cannot care for it like it should be, and that is where your tasks will begin. I am not so kind that I would offer you a respite or holiday here. But it is the best offer you will get." He said. An offer indeed…A work order, perhaps, but no offer. A grimace fell into place where I once kept a calm expression. I said nothing.

"You do not approve?" He asked, giving me a stern look. I could only shake my head. No of course, I did not approve! Was I to be his slave, then, rather than be such a nuisance of a person to have my own freedom?

"I haven't got a choice, Majesty, have I?" I asked. I knew very well this was it for me. And the smart little grin that revealed strange, pointed teeth on the king told me I was right.

"Of course you do. How about this, instead of immediately beginning? I shall give you a three day trial run. If I am not satisfied with your performance, or you are not satisfied for whatever reason, not that I would care much, You shall be allowed to return home. But the instant I hear of you dreaming again, I shall demand you come here to work, until you've forgotten all about this silly delusion of yours." He said. It wasn't much of an offer, but there was a small chance to at least go home. And perhaps while I was here, I would come across some history of this place, and perhaps hope for a way out entirely.

I nodded. In three days time, I would escape, one way or another.

The king only smiled in reply.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

The castle was enormous. I spent most of the first day of my 'retreat' here simply exploring it, trying my best to find all of its nooks and crannies, but failing miserably. It seemed to have no apparent end to it, and where I would expect a wall, there was a staircase. Where there should have been the castles limit, there was a door to a hidden or forgotten room. It as a whole was very perplexing, and trying to understand it made me dizzy. Toward nightfall, I actually took to cleaning the place, as really, it was filthy. How the king was alright living like this was beyond me. It was no easy task, but I managed, room by room, slowly working my way across the first floor. The removal of the cobwebs alone made the place look nearly new, but I refused to stop there.

I also refused to let the goblins—to whom I had grown quite accustomed in such a short time—laze about all day. It turned out, if you convinced them with food, or threatened to remove their pets from their care, they were willing to do almost anything. The strange creatures kept chickens of all things, and if it was possible, loved them far more than the trinkets and jewels they hoarded. By the second day, I had them cleaning just as much as I was, and it warranted a visit from his majesty. He first offered me stern words about minding myself, and making sure that while I was a guest here, I shouldn't make myself too comfortable, or get too friendly with the 'staff'. He then chided the goblins for never listening to him as they listened to me, and they did nothing but giggle as a reply. I wasn't sure if the goblins respected their king, or only found it comical that he was saddled with such a chore as minding them. But I pitied him a little, then, for having to look after the little monsters.

The days here were long, it seemed. Longer still than the days on the island, or perhaps they just seemed that way. At first I guessed it was because I kept busy, but one would think that would make the time fly. But time here, in the King's lair, was a tricky thing. It did not obey normal conventions. What seemed like an hour would have passed for half a day back home. But even that I grew accustomed to quickly—like I had known it all along and nothing else before that. When the night finally fell, I had worked upwards, dusting and sweeping and mopping…straightening portraits or paintings, re-setting felled curtains. The castle began to look respectable. Or it would, if this routine was kept up daily. But if I were leaving tomorrow, I suspect his majesties home would fall victim to filth once more. He didn't seem to care much what his home looked like, it turned out. Strange, considering he seemed to place so much pride in himself and took such careful measures with his appearance.  
I wound upwards, the stairs becoming dizzying once more, and at the top, I found the most curious thing. That, I should note, says something, considering this entire building could be called one giant curiosity. At the top, where the stairs would normally lead to yet one more, dusty dark hallway, there was a door. Small, wooden like everything else here, with a copper handle and a small display of lattice work across the face. Surrounding the doors handle were the hands of a clock, each facing the polar opposite of each other, noon and six, respectively. Try as I may though, it would not budge. The handle would jimmy, but not turn all the way, and there was no mechanism to suggest that I could unlock it otherwise.

This, more than most things I have come across in my short (and at the same time, impossibly long) two days here, frustrated me the most. I wanted to know what was behind that door. More than that, I needed to know. Much like sailors lost to their song, this mystery sang to me like a murderous siren. I stormed away in a flurry, planning to assess the situation and come up with a solution while I worked in other sections of the house, but the later it got and the farther away I wandered from it, the more I felt its allure pulling me back in. The king summoned me for dinner, but I could hardly eat. He thought it was disrespectful….I couldn't care otherwise. My mind was far away, dreaming of the secrets contained behind that brass handle. What reason it had to be locked, what the clock hands were for.  
In its travels, my mind found something else locked away. I saw a clock, standing tall on a hill. Its face was blurred, but the frame was crystal clear. It stood, shining, gilded in the light of an orange sun, and though the face and everything surrounded it warped and wavered, the chimes, and the pendulum which pierced the center of the shaft, bore in to my head, loud, pounding, I felt like I was drunk. But before I could hope for more information, somewhere in the castle, there were thirteen chimes, a clock—and not one of dreams—bringing me back to reality.

"Sarah?" The king asked, obviously repeating himself, and none too happy for it. I snapped out of my daze and looked over to him, eyes surely glassy and heavy lidded—as they felt such. I hummed a response and poked at the greens on my plate with my fork.

"I did ask a question, and while I understand it is common for peasants to be insufferable and rude, I do expect a response none the less." He frowned, his eyes narrowing into small black slits. The king had a short fuse, I'd come to notice. He demanded a respect he did not have right to, and his haughtiness wore thin on my nerves.

"I am sorry…"I said, casting my eyes down, as was custom. "My mind tends to wander, I am sure you know. Otherwise I would not be here. Please, indulge this _peasant_?" I asked, emphasis on his word, though he used it in a degrading manner, I would not take offense as easily as he did.

"What was your question, Majesty?" I pressed, spearing a few sprigs of what looked like asparagus and popping them into my mouth as I waited. He sure liked to take his sweet time in deciding who was worthy to hear him speak or not. At long last, after a very pregnant pause and a waning interest on my part, he spoke. He had asked how I liked my stay so far, and of all the things that could have come out of his mouth, I was not expecting that. Still far away, I could hear the chiming of the clock as it echoed in the innumerable hallways. I imagined it would go on for hours, and with that, and through trying to piece out what I had seen, and trying to understand what the kings' game was, the fact that I told him I was enjoying myself was not surprising. I told him I liked it here. Why, I have no idea, but I suppose that's what I get for not thinking things through before I opened my mouth.

"Mind you…" I added, wanting to clarify after singing praises. "It is a dump here. Only after some serious renovations would I ever consider this place habitable…but…it does have its charms. It's dark…damp…musty charms." I said, my mouth curling down slightly at the corners. Jareth grinned—or perhaps he grimaced, I still cannot be sure, and folded his hands in front of his lips, his elbows resting on the table.

"Interesting…" he hummed, an amused, light tone to his voice. Something I definitely hadn't heard before, and to be honest, it was frightening a bit. I turned my attention back to my food and very unladylike, began shoveling the remains into my mouth to avoid any further conversation. His eyes trained on me, the king watched with rapt amusement as I inhaled the rest of my meal. If he was trying to set my nerves to fray, he was doing an excellent job of it.

With an empty plate, a full, but unhappy stomach, and a bump on the roof of my mouth from eating too quickly, I was dismissed from the table, sent off with a suggestion that I dress more appropriately for the next meal. I slid away, glad for the dismissal, and made the long hike to my room. It was exhausting, but I had picked it personally, as it was far away from everything else, and had a window that overlooked the ocean. A window where I perched myself after stripping down to my shift, and trained my eyes on the lights. I had found them again, hovering on the horizon like they always did, like they always would, taunting me. Their flickers like little tinkling laughter, teasing me for not getting out and finding them yet. That I believed the king when he said they were nothing.  
I crawled into bed after stars knows how many hours I spent staring, and my eyes wet with tears, I shut out the world; angry that I had been—and apparently will continue to be—so dense that I cannot find a way to run.

* * *

Day three; breakfast; I had found a turquoise dress hanging on my dressing cabinet when I woke. It fit like a glove and flattered every curve I knew about as well as the ones I had only discovered when putting it on. I knotted my hair into a loose braid and draped it over my shoulder, examining myself in the small mirror next to the door before I left. It was interesting, how different I looked, and how unlike myself. I looked ethereal. My skin, though still as pale as always, shimmered underneath and in contrast to the fabric. My hair looked darker and richer, and the fact that a simple color change could do that astounded me. But still, this dress was not me. Then again, neither was the white one my mother sent me away in. If it were up to me, I would still be wearing the green frock I sported the day before I decided to come here, with the frayed laces and the tiny hole in the hem at the bottom from where I snagged it on a branch.

I met the king in the dining hall, and upon seeing me, his face split into a sharp smile. I didn't like it, his smile. There was something very wrong about it. Perhaps it was because every time I had seen it so far, it was because he was getting a sick pleasure from my downfalls and failures. A thick porridge topped with berry compote sat at my place at the table, steaming and honestly a lot more enticing than I was expecting. I happily dived into it, having to take careful bites as it was piping hot, and once more the king watched me. He mentioned in passing that it was my last day here, but said precious little else. I cherished the fact that he was not a man of conversation. It made my sentence a lot easier, in the end.  
I set to work once more, and hopefully for the last time, after our meal. But first I changed clothes. I could hardly breathe in the gown, and I longed for the comfort of my previous dress. This time, I took to the castle grounds; the overgrown hedges, the untrimmed and dying rose bushes, the gnarled hedgerows and topiaries. If the king were planning on having extensive and ornate gardens, one would think he would take on a groundskeeper. I began to question why I was even bothering if I was going to be sent away at the end of the day. I had long since come to the conclusion that the king would not want me here just as I would not want to stay, but with my small gaffe during the previous nights' supper, and how I had said I was enjoying myself, he may extend my sentence out of a sick amusement he gained from it.

When the castle clock struck six, and I had begun to wonder why I hadn't heard its chiming before yesterday, the king made a call for me. He had sent a stout little goblin to herald his arrival, and it suggested I make myself more presentable by removing the sticks from my hair. As I did so, it took them from my hand, stuck them in its' own crown of hair, and waddled off. I would never understand these creatures as long as I lived. The king arrived moments later, decked in a rather fetching navy blue tunic, cinched at the waist with a black belt, black trousers and shoes, and as per the usual, his leather gloves. He kept a small dagger at his waist, for what reason I was not sure, but my eyes were drawn to it momentarily as I paid him proper deference.

"Your trial run has been extinguished. You have officially been here three days as of six-o-clock." He informed me. I nodded, not sure I understood where he was going with this, but hoping he would just tell me to leave in some kind of harsh manner.

"And what, Majesty, does that mean for me?" I asked; my voice unusually uneven. I cleared my throat and gave him a stern glare to match his own. He shrugged though, and began to walk the garden we stood in, his gloved fingers gingerly brushing against the roses I had pruned. He did it with such an affection I would think that he actually cared for these plants, but from their state, I would call myself wrong in a heartbeat.

"It means you have two options." He spoke after a moment. Wonderful, I thought, more options, more decisions, and more of the both of us pretending that I would ever have a say in what was truly going to happen.  
"You can go, of course, I said you could if you were unhappy here." He said, hinting at the fact that just yesterday I had said that I was happy here. It wasn't that I was unhappy, so to speak, I was just unsatisfied. I needed more than a bigger cage, and that was all the king was willing to give me.

"Or?" I asked, nothing more than a squeak, as once the king had posed the first option, he had taken very large strides to get close to me. Close enough that I could feel his breath, the heat radiating from his skin, and his striking, abnormal eyes boring into my own. My stomach twisted into nauseous knots as he brushed his fingertips across my cheekbones. He wore a deliberate soft expression, carrying himself in a lighter manner than he was seconds before.

"You can stay." He said, his voice low, waxing seductive, and it sent a chill down my spine. If he was trying to use some sort of sexual advance to convince me to stay…I had no words. Coming completely out of left field, I had assumed he would just keep me on as his cleaning lady. Not….not this. Never this.

"A consort is not so terrible a title when it is connected to royalty..." He said. "And to deny your king would be the worst idea anyone with fealty could have." He reminded me with silky tones and a smirk that could chase even the darkest shadows away with how sinister it was. Damn…damn it all…he knew. He knew if anything, I had fealty. To a king who sparked our life anew when we were drowning. Who stopped calamity from doing away with us all. And I could hate him all I wanted, but I would swear fealty when it came down to it. We all would, in a second, without a thought, without question. It was all we knew.  
My eyes stung with tears, prickling and buzzing, stinging like a million tiny bees zipping around. He knew, and he was using it against me to keep me here as his…whatever. His Consort; His wife, but never queen, as I am not royalty. Should he die—though I am quite sure that is impossible—our kingdom would fall to anarchy with no one to take the throne. I would inherit nothing but the castle, the goblins...nothing more. Nothing important. I didn't even want the unimportant things. I just wanted freedom…

And this, now, was to be my fate. By order of the king.

He trailed his hand from my cheek, down my neck, resting at the curve where my shoulder met, and tenderly ran circles along my collarbone. Think about it, he said, take a day, and think about it. But I didn't want to think about it, I didn't want to consider it, or even acknowledge it as an option! Under false pretenses of marriage, of happily-ever-after's and wedded bliss, this man…this monster…was keeping me prisoner. All along I knew this was going to happen. In coming here in the first place, I condemned myself to a lifetime of servitude and pretending that I don't see the lights, that I can't here that incessant chiming from that dumb clock I can't seem to find, but hear all the time now, and acting like I don't want to bolt at every chance I get.

And I knew it from the beginning…but I tried to lie to myself, in the end. To maybe lessen the blow. But it still came harshly and stinging red. I stepped back from the kings embrace. His free hand had found my waist as his other still cupped my neck. His attempts at seductions would have worked had I not known what he was trying to do.

I was just something else for him to have control over now.

* * *

_**A brief authors note here:**_

_**I'm writing this at like, four in the morning, so bear with me. Not really, it's like 12:30 at night, but it might as well be four. I am exhausted. **_

_**I am so, so sorry for this delay. Believe me, I had every intention of getting this up sooner, with my normal week and a half to two week break in between chapters. But I got busy, man. Mostly with video games I'm not gonna lie. I got Bioshock Infinite, and I lost myself in it. I got my license, and went driving around like a crazy person. My work hours picked up a little. And really, it was just a series of events that made me way too lazy to hammer out a chapter. **_

_**Please forgive me…and I really hope this hasn't put you off from reading the story, cause man I've got places for this puppy to go. Anyway, Chapter five will be up in normal time, and please, if you feel like you've waited too long for a chapter, yell at me! Send me a message, virtually punch me in the face. It will get me motivated, I promise. But I'll really really try to not let this happen again.**_

_**Until next time!**_

**_P.S. I have been pretty careful with chapter length, as I'm not sure how much my readers are willing to read in one sitting...and the formatting on this site sucks balls, so getting proper spacing and paragraphing is near impossible, making it harder to read. So I'd like some feedback, if it's cool. I'd like to make lengthier chapters, or perhaps more detailed. There is a reason I draw things out the way I do, but I sometimes can't do it adequately if I condense the chapters. Either way, you're going to get the same story, it just will have a significant change in chapter numbers depending. So what do you think? _**

**_Longer Chapters, yea or nay? Respond in a review, or drop me a message. _**

**_Thanks!_**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Tell me about the lights." I prompted, stepping back from him, from his caress, his cold gloved hand on my skin. He looked at me curiously, his sharp eyebrow rising in confusion. He wasn't confused though, just...startled, perhaps. That I would demand such a thing after what he had just proposed; that I would demand anything at all. But I was done with pleasantries; I was done with cordial addresses and trite comments. I was livid, raging and fuming, and above all, I was terrified.

"The lights." I urged. "Tell me about them. I can't answer you until I know for sure there is nothing else for me. That there is nothing better out there than what you are offering me right now." I said, my voice shaking though I was sturdy in my resolve. The kings face relaxed into a state of indifference as he rolled his eyes.

"There is nothing, Sarah." He said blandly. "You can search high and low, far and wide, and you will never find a way off this island." He sighed, his tone returning to its default bored and irritated tone. I once thought that perhaps he was indeed bored and irritated with me—with my presence, but I quickly learned that he just came off that way all the time. Whether on purpose, or just inconveniently set up with such a dilemma, it did make him terribly difficult to talk to. I shook my head then, knowing very well that there was something, and that he was lying.

"Try again. Tell me about the lights." I said, crossing my arms stubbornly. The king glared, licking his thin lips once as he poised himself to respond. He inhaled sharply, obviously growing more irritated by the second.

"There are no lights! You're delirious, pet. There never have been any lights." He said, changing his story completely. Another lie…

I stomped my foot then, childish, my own temper flaring.

"The lights! I want to know about them, and I know you have answers. If you want so badly for me to marry you, then tell me the truth!" I cried, my voice raising, startling both the king and myself a little bit. In that moment, I could have sworn he growled at me, and my stomach flipped nervously in response. There was something so sinister, so feral about such a small action. The man actually growled at me; a guttural, instinctive act, provoked by anger. And I had caused it.

"You insatiable, curious little…" He cut himself off, closing any space between us by taking giant strides towards me, and in the process, backing me up against a wall. He was closer now than he was when he was being kind, soft, and proposing. I now knew that what he was doing before was kindness, and it was an active effort. This, in front of me now, was what the king was really like. I could see it in every movement he made, every fiber of his being, I could tell, this was not provoked and rare. This was his constant.

"You can search a life time and never find a way out of here. I'm doing you a favor, Sarah, and I am not one known for doing such things. As far as you're concerned, as far as I am concerned, there never were any lights, and never will be. I'll damp every one of them out until you are blind if I have to." He spat, his voice a harsh whisper. I had heard all I had needed to, though, and gotten the answers I wanted. There were lights, and there was a way out. There would come a day when I was no longer this mans' hostage, or his wife, or anything. I would find a way off this god forsaken mass of rock and when I did, the only thing that would possibly cause me to come back, would be to get my family and bring them with me.

I slithered out from under his arm, which was placed adjacent to my head, his hand splayed against the brink behind me in attempts to keep me contained further. In ducking under him, I had to take just a moment to adjust myself, and gain my bearings, but then I was off, running as far as I could as fast as my feet would take me. It was to my misfortune that the gardens I had been tending before this event transpired was in a courtyard inside the castle. So anywhere I ran, I would just wind up back inside. But I had had ample time to explore this place, and had hoped I would be able to find my way out.  
I could almost hear the king laughing as I got turned around again and again, confusing myself further. I could have sworn I knew this place better, but it was like it had a mind of its own, or perhaps, it moved according to his will. And right now, his will was to keep me here.  
I found a staircase soon enough, and decided up was the best way to go, if I couldn't leave the castle, then I could at least shut myself in my room. It might be better that way, as I was sure that the moment I left the building; the king would send everything he had to stop me from finding my way to shore. I would much rather get lost inside than out, if that was going to be the case.

What I found at the top of the stairs, instead of my room, was a curious little thing. It was of course, something I had seen before, and had spent a great deal of time pondering over. I had managed, somehow, to find the strange door again; the one with the clock around the handle, or at least, the clock hands. It did not have numbers to indicate any passage of time, just the hands of a clock, surrounding the brass handle. I stopped then, having nowhere else to go, and in a futile attempt, jimmied the door handle. Like before, it did not budge, so, naturally frustrated further, I shook it harder, throwing my weight into my shoulder and slamming against the wood door, but it still would not budge.

Groaning in frustration, I beat my open palms against the wood and sunk down to the floor, leaning defeated against the opposite wall. Perhaps I would just stay here. The king could not possibly know I was up here, and it was quiet. Save for the chiming of the clock I still had yet to locate. Now that I heard it though, I realized I constantly heard its rings. Did it ever cease chiming? Most times, I am able to tune it out, but at present, I cannot recall now, when it ever was silent for more than the blissful minute it took to reset and begin again. Thirteen chimes, silence, and again. Repeating and repeating. Not only annoying, but clearly broken. There were not thirteen hours to chime for.  
My eyes fell on the clock hands, staring at them contemplatively. The big had faced down, at the six, and the little pointed just to the left of it, between where the eight and the nine would be. Counting the spaces in my head, I could picture where the one through twelve would be, wondering if it was indeed a mistake that the clock chimed an extra time. I counted again, but still I could not see where there would be a space for a thirteenth hour. Leaning across the small space that separated us, I reached out to turn the hands myself, setting both hands right in the middle of the twelve and the one. The thirteenth hour. Technically, it should have been the hour hand on the twelve, and the minute in the middle, and in adjusting them so, I heard a distinct click; a tumbler turning over; a door unlocking.

I stood slowly, wondering if I had really solved how to open the door, and mentally hitting myself for not realizing it sooner. Lo and behold, when I tried the handle, it turned with ease, opening out to yet another balcony that the castle boasted. This one, black rock and wilted ivy, looking out over a massive, sprawling maze. It encompassed a vast field that by all reasonable senses should not be there. A land bigger than the land it sat upon. The structure stretched to the horizon; tall white walls and even taller hedges. It wound into a forest I had not seen before, and out, over hills and across valleys that could not possibly exist. I had seen such lands before, arriving here, but I had told myself it was a trick of light on my eyes, for there was no way that it could exist on a scrap of island that I could walk around in a day.  
But there it was, a massive Labyrinth, and across it, hovering over the horizon like bright homing beacons were my lights.

I had found my way out. My heart was racing, pounding against my chest, threatening to blast out of it for sheer excitement. The corners of my mouth twitched up; the first smile I had mustered in a while. I turned around to race back down the steps, to find the wretched king to make a bargain with him. But in turning, I found him. He nearly startled me out of my skin, but in the end, it saved me time I would have spent looking for him.

"So, I see you've found my secret." He said. Though, by the way he spoke the word, I could tell this was not a secret he ever planned on keeping. Or ever meant to. This was something he knew about, and so did many others, I assumed. I nodded in response, but said nothing. I was too busy working out how to bargain with him. He would likely be a master at contorting words or manipulating agreements. A trickster to the core.

"I have a bargain for you….a game." I said, changing the wording as I had a feeling he would be more complacent, more willing to agree, if there was a prize at the end. His eyebrow raised, a thing he did quite often when his interest was piqued, and he folded his arms across his chest, as if suggesting that he was listening, that I should go on.

"There's got to be something out there. If I find a way out of that labyrinth, you have to let me go. Whatever I find out there, whatever new land or way out I manage to get my hands on, you must let me take it." I said.

"But if I find nothing, if I lose…I come back here. And I marry you. I'll never talk about leaving again." I said. The very thought put stones in my stomach, a sinking, weighted feeling that only came when one was desperate. I waited then, and could see the gears working in his brain as he contemplated my offer. His expression changed only once, to that of thoughtfulness. He pondered, and I waited. It seemed like forever before he even moved again, as if he had shut down completely.

But all at once, he wound up again, and smiled sinisterly.

"We have a deal, Sarah Williams. You beat my labyrinth, you get your freedom. You lose, and you are mine." He spoke in a low growl, stepping closer to cup my chin in his hand. He guided my head up slightly, to lock eyes, and I was uncomfortable simply holding eye contact with this monster. I couldn't imagine spending a life time with him.

"Deal." I breathed. My voice was weaker than I intended. I always mean to be strong, and it came out clearly, but there was no conviction behind it. I knew I could be stronger, and that I would have to be around him to ever make any progress. In that knowledge, I hardened my glare, intensifying it as his eyes bore into mine. For a moment, I thought he was going to seal the deal with a kiss. He had moved in closer, and his lips were mere inches from mine. I could feel the static between our two pairs, but thankfully he did not. He simply smirked, and stepped back.

The walls behind him began to warp, I noticed, and blur. I began to feel lightheaded, and I wondered what sort of ridiculous trick he was playing at now. But I could not form the words. My stomach flipped with the uneven movement of everything, and my vision blurred along with the walls, and the floor, and the ivy scaling the wall. The king stayed clear though. Grinning as he always did. I tried to blink away the dizziness, but to no avail. The only reprieve came when I squeezed my eyes shut, but even that didn't last long. I opened my eyes to a vanishing castle wall, and in my confusion, squeezed my eyes shut again, the debilitating nausea bringing me to my knees. I thought I heard the king snicker, but I could not be sure.  
All at once, the whirring in my head and the nausea stopped. The lightheadedness I experienced all but dissipated, and I managed to open my eyes. Under me, where stone once lay, grew tall slightly brown grass. I stood, my legs still a bit weak, to see that we now looked over the labyrinth directly. At the bottom of the hill stood the start of it all, a large wooden gate at its center. The whole thing was covered in ivy and vines, suggesting that maintenance had been less than regular on this place. Or maybe it was to add to the ambiance. The whole place felt like to enter it was to enter oblivion. It was very foreboding.

I turned to look at the king, to ask him about this place, but he was gone. In his place stood a tall gilded clock, one so familiar that I was sure I had seen it not just before, but very, very recently. Perhaps, it was the source of the infernal chiming I had heard constantly these past few days. It was silent now, though, so perhaps that theory was an unfounded one. This clock, like the face around the handle of the door I had found, was structured around thirteen hours rather than twelve. This one though, was properly and accordingly numbered, unlike the puzzle door. With an opal face and shining golden numbers and hands, it also harbored a very intricate design inlaid into the opal, ancient, obviously, but with no origin I could trace. I wanted to stay longer, to really examine this thing further, as it truly fascinated me, but it chimed once, and the hands moved an hour shorter, and I realized then that not only had our game started, but I was being timed.

Frustrated, and now under time limits, which never really thrilled me to begin with, I spun to face the labyrinth again. The first trial would definitely be getting in. It would not be so easy as to open the front door and walk in, I was sure.

* * *

The door to the labyrinth was a huge, ancient wooden thing, knotted and worn and weathered, and somehow grown into the stone walls. I wouldn't have thought that it was a living thing at first, but now I could see, that if I craned my neck, there were sprouts at the top, and along the seam where hinge met wall and wood. The curious thing about it, more curious than the fact that the door was alive, was that it was one solid panel, though it would suggest that it opened at the middle from looking at the seams. This was indeed the first challenge. I wasn't about to walk around the outside looking for another way in, as I'm sure this thing stretched for miles, but I would walk a little this way, and a little that, in hopes for a secret door.  
Roots grew and protruded out from under the wall, and proved that while this place seemed to lack life, it was there, just dormant. I imagined once this structure thrived, pulsing with life and color. I wondered what happened that caused it to stop.

I ran my hand along the cool stone wall, savoring the texture beneath my fingertips. It was rough, but not in an unpleasant manner. It was not jagged or sharp, or haggard. The wind and aging had softened it, had brought to light some of the multicolored miniscule stones inlaid in the sand. They were beautiful, upon close inspection, but with close inspection, that was all I saw. No trap doors or hidden entrances. To the right or to the left, and I must have gone a half mile in each direction before returning to center.

"How do I get inside?" I pondered, my voice much louder in the silence that surrounded me. It was eerie, how quiet it was. No birds sang, or bugs hummed. No animals stirred, and it was like everything was gone from this place except the maze. Oblivion indeed…  
The time I spent staring at the door was only brought to my attention as the clock began to chime. Two times, as two hours had passed. I had eleven hours to solve this puzzle, and I couldn't even get past the first move.

"This isn't fair! How do I get inside!" I cried, louder this time, my voice echoing in the air above me.

As if on command, a small door literally right next to the main door opened, and a small wrinkled creature poked his head out, looking around twice before exiting altogether. He had a small spray bottle in his hand, and before I could even consider making a run for it, the door closed and sealed. So much for getting inside. But still, there was a creature who had come from inside the labyrinth, so he must know how to open the door. I watched him as he went about his business. Either had had not noticed me, or he failed to acknowledge my presence. He did however, take great concern in a dying shrubbery nearby, where he sprayed the contraption in his hand, and a slew of small, winged things came flying out. They were too large to be bugs, but far too small to be any kind of bird. I moved to investigate myself, as he had no concern over my presence, he couldn't at all mind my taking a look, I thought. They were indeed no bug nor bird, but small…well, they looked like small people with wings. Faerie instantly came to mind, but everything I knew of the fae was that they were deceptive, and often akin to the appearance of regular humans. They did it to throw us off, and hadn't been seen since the world collapsed.

The wrinkled thing next to me took to spraying at the beasts, causing them to drop from the sky like flies.

"Stop! What are you doing? You're hurting them!" I cried, pushing him away immediately. How could he! They weren't doing anything. In fact, they were minding their own business until he came and upset their home. The poor things looked terrified, or were gagging and writhing on the ground. Some were already gone.

"Course I am! Rats with wings, they are. Now move." He said, taking aim once more. Only to be stopped once again by my hand. I swooped in at once, picking up a survivor from the ground, cradling it in my hand. The poor thing. I was always distraught when father slaughtered anything for food at home, and I never even watched. Seeing this up close was heartbreaking. I ran a finger down its silken hair, hoping to comfort it, but was startled when the creature turned and bit me. In shock, I pulled away and shook my hand out, dropping the beast in the process.

"Pixies." The thing next to me laughed. "Nuttin but trouble. Now, if you'll let me get back to my work." He said. It sounded rehearsed, like he had said this to a hundred different people before. Like he was tired of telling people how awful pixies were. I frowned, but the fact that I could very clearly hear it laughing at me, and see it pointing at me as it did so, I was more inclined to let him do what he would, and carry on. I went back to studying the door, running my hand along the exterior, looking for a hidden seam I could push on, or pull out. This got the attention of the one spraying at the pixies, and he stopped what he was doing to stare, clearly amused by my antics.  
Frustrated, I turned to him and glared. "You could help, you know, rather than making fun of me." I grumbled. To which, the creature replied

"Hoggle don't help no one but Hoggle." He said sternly, pointing to himself with his thumb. Hoggle, then. The name was silly, but fitting for whatever he was.

"Not even you." He added after a moment.

"Why won't you help me, Hoggle?" I asked, trying his name out for myself. He frowned, sadder than I expected, but just went back to spraying the pixies.

"Hoggle! Please?" I asked, running up to him, clearly desperate for any assistance I could get. He looked up at me and sighed, glancing back to the door.

"How do I get inside there, Hoggle?" I asked, trying one more time to get an answer out of him. He stared up at me once more, thinking over whether to help me, or not, or something…he was definitely working over something…but in the end he sighed, shaking his head and picking up his spray bottle once more.

"You aren't asking the right questions, Sarah." He said. He knew my name? How did he know that? I don't think I had said it, had I? Was it common knowledge; the people the king had locked up here? I mulled over it for a minute, but didn't pay it much more thought. Really it just made things easier on my end, not having to introduce myself.

So I wasn't asking the right question…was the door activated verbally? With a trigger word perhaps? Or a certain phrase? It wouldn't be beyond the king to go to such measures, after all.

"I need to get inside though…" I murmured, running over how my question was wrong in my mind.

"What question should I ask, then?" I tried, but the dwarf only shook his head. Nice try, he smirked. At least I could only assume that was what it was. It could have been a grimace, or a sneer. His face and features were as worn down as the wood behind me, and emotions were hard to differentiate on the perpetually grumpy mug of his.  
I turned back to the door and frowned contemplatively.

"How do I open the door?" I asked, partially to myself, partially to Hoggle, but the door was the one that answered by swinging open with a heavy sigh and a gush of wind. At last, it seemed to breathe. I laughed incredulously, running my hand through my tangled hair. I couldn't believe that worked! I spent all that time frustrating myself how to get inside the damned thing, and all I had to do was ask how to open the door. It was frustrating, of course, but I was so relieved at the prospect of not wasting any more time dwelling over it that I couldn't care how stupid a resolution it was.

Inside, there was yet another wall. Unsurprising, and frankly, expected being that now I was inside the maze. It was rather close though and I was lucky not to run into it. The corridor—narrow and riddled with roots and stones and things to trip over easily—ran down both sides as far as the eye could see, with no apparent turns or twists. It was like looking down a well lit tunnel, and I had to admit my senses were thrown off for it. I picked a direction and ran with it, using my energy in small bursts as I ran so as not to exhaust myself so quickly. I ran for what seemed like hours, though I was thankful in that I did not hear the chiming of the clock as I ran, but looking back, I had gotten nowhere. The roots looked the same, the rocks were in the same place as when I passed them before, and there was a small broken bit of stone that I was sure I had passed several times.  
Frustrated, I growled loudly and punched the wall.

"That is not fair!" I cried. My voice echoed, reminding me that I was alone again. But there was nothing to do but try the other direction, and while I did seem to press on for longer than before, at least this time I was making progress. There were no familiar roots or branches as I traveled. No duplicate rocks or breaks in the rocks. But also, and more importantly, there was no end in sight. I stopped to catch my breath and to look back. To my delight, there was no closed door five feet from me, like before. I had made progress even if it didn't feel like it. But as I took a moment to breathe, the clock chimed thrice. Ten hours to go, and I had nothing to show for it.

Feeling rather defeated, I leaned back against the wall behind me, only to find that there was in fact, no wall there. There was, a wall, but it was much farther back than I had anticipated. From my spot on the ground, I looked up to find a hidden corridor, cleverly disguised with nothing more than a trick of the eye. My frustration surged again anew. Very clever, I sighed, standing up and brushing the dirt off of my rear. How many of these secreted passages had I run past? How long had I run without purpose or meaning?! Would I be any farther currently, if I had chosen them, or would I have been taken back further?  
I chose not to fret on it any longer. To do so would be a waste of my time. If I could only remember to do that with the rest of the king's ridiculous trials, I might actually make it out of here in time. I moved onward, still running, as I had no time to walk, and prayed to every god I could that I would find the end of this never ending hallway.

It was between hours that I had found passage out, but in such a nonconventional manner, I could only imagine that the king was groaning in irritation as he watched from high up in his towers. I couldn't imagine how, but somehow, I knew he was watching, just as he always was, as he always would be unless I could find a way to stop him.  
Upon finding a deteriorated bit of wall, I used its felled rubble as stepping stones, and climbed to the top, pulling myself up to a solid bit of sandstone, and overlooking my surroundings. Much of what was ahead of me was covered in thick fog, likely a trick of his majesties design, to keep me from cheating. He must have foreseen this, or predicted I might try something. I wouldn't have if I hadn't found the opportunity, but it just seemed too good to pass up. I could not find a short cut, but I could see just how much farther I needed to progress until I found the next area, and I was in luck. It was not far.

At the end of the hallway, there was a broken door laying in the path before me, a simple climb over it would allow me passage. This was no trick or stall, simply an old maze allowing nature to take over and do what it does best. I was glad to get the first part of my trial behind me, but dreaded the rest. Ahead of me sat two equal doors, and I could only imagine what they had in store. What tricks were up their sleeves or what the king intended me to find behind them. But I was ready to face them. Behind one of them, after all, was my ticket home.

* * *

_**Chapter five. Also known as "The Time Where a Variation of 'Frustrated' was Used Eight Times and The Author is REALLY SORRY." No seriously. I did not realize I used it that much. It wont happen again. **_


	6. Chapter 6

-PART TWO-

"_All I have on the virus_

_all the virus has on me_

_all I have on you_

_all you have on me_

_is a head start"_

-Akili Tyson

* * *

Chapter 6.

Once, several years back, I had arrived to my hill one night to find my step-mother sitting atop it, gazing out at the ocean, the same position I find myself in every night. Her hair shifted in the wind, unbound and unconstructed, unlike during the day, when she had to look the part of a married woman. I sat next to her, falling into my default position of drawing my knees to my chin and resting my head on them, and appreciated the silence. It felt nice, sharing this with her, which was strange, as I never wanted to share this place with anyone. But now that she was here, I couldn't be angry about it. I came here for comfort and solace, so perhaps she did as well.

After a long, long while, my step mother spoke. It took me a minute to register she had said anything at all, much less what she had said. But when I was able to process it, I felt my skin grow clammy. She could see the lights, she said. I asked her to repeat it, just to clarify. I hadn't been paying attention and maybe I heard her wrong.

"I can see them too…" She repeated, now inclining her head to look at me. I stared forward, at the impossible stars. The ghost lights or city lights or whatever they were. I had no words, so I simply nodded my head. Honestly, relief flooded my system. Like ghosts, some people could see them, and some couldn't, but the fact that she could was calming, reassuring. I for a moment was thrilled that someone knew what I felt, what I wanted, what I hoped the lights meant and what they could do for me. To me, they represented hope and freedom, but to her…it was not the same.

"I don't think we see them the same though." She said, her voice still distant, weak. We don't? I asked her, finally turning to look at her, confused at what she could possibly mean. My step mother shook her head, giving me a sad confirmation of a look.

"Where you feel freedom and the promise of adventure and something more, I feel emptiness. A great, black void, I feel nothing." She said. "Like I don't exist where they are. Like I don't belong." She sighed. It sounded like there were tears in her voice, though her eyes were dry. She had no emotion about it, really. She was just stating the sad facts.

She never came back to the hill after that night. And when I tried to mention going back with her, she resorted to the normal default answer of calling me a ridiculous dreamer. I wish I had understood more then, that night, that she had wanted to feel the hope that I felt, but couldn't. It was only too late that I realized that the islanders lived without hope, and were angry at me for having so much of it.

I wish I had realized sooner that hope could be so debilitating. That it could kill you if it wanted.

* * *

I had lost my little friend somewhere in the labyrinth. Higgle, was his name? Or Hogwart…I can hardly remember now. Either way, the dwarf accompanied me for a short ways once I had found him again just past my first trial. Though, to call it a 'trial' would be a bit of an understatement. It was no more than a choice of doors, and I'm assuming that the one I did not choose simply lead to a dead end. Or even the exact same spot I was now. It seemed like a trick the mischievous king would play, anyhow. He spoke candidly to me, when he did speak, like we had known each other for more than the collective ten minutes, and all the while he constantly fiddled with a bracelet made of unusual gems he had wrapped around his wrist. It was a strange habit, I suppose, but no stranger than my fiddling with the hem of my dress when I am bored, or picking at my nails when I am nervous.

In the end, something had caught his attention and he hurried off, hardly bidding me a farewell. I was not surprised, as he seemed extremely lacking in manners, but still…I was sad to see him go. The company was nice while it lasted. I went along for a while once more, alone, stuck in a winding corridor with no turns, and nothing remarkable to really remember should I need to turn back, and I couldn't help but think how poorly structured this place truly was. So far, more than anything, I was bored. By the time I had fully come to that conclusion, and was altogether disappointed with this great maze, I had found another trial to overcome. Four pathways lay ahead of me. One on each side of me, to the right and left, and two ahead of me, one leading up, and the other down. The two to each side had terrifying stone guardians in front of them. They stood poised, swords out of their scabbards and pointing down, one hand lying atop the other at the hilt. I examined them for a moment, anticipating a movement of a finger or a dart of an eye, but they were still. Of course, they were stone, so I have no idea what I was expecting.

There was no way around them, as the sides between them and the staircase were too narrow, and there was no way under or over them, as they were far too tall to climb, and there was no space between their legs and the sword. But what I could see behind them was promising, and I was a bit more than disappointed that I would never be able to see it. The right guard stood in front of what looked like a path leading to a sprawling field, while the left guards path seemed to wind on and on, though the walls were crumbled and far beyond, I could see the ocean and it's horizon. How desperately I wanted to be there, swimming out to sea to find adventure. But there was no way past, and not another way around.

Annoyed, I quickly picked another path and the staircase leading up. They were of course deceptively long, and lead to another section that was an exact replica of the first. Down to the detailing on the statues, everything was impeccably alike; no doubt a deception to throw me off. I continued onward, up the stairs further, to another level, again identical to the last. More tricks, I thought, but decided just in case to take the staircase leading down this time. Once again, I found a mirror image in this room from the last. My heart fluttered nervously, and a small lump welled in my throat. I turned around and raced up the stairs, practically throwing myself into walls as I raced to retrace my steps, but even after I reached what should have been the first room, and tried to leave it, I found myself in the very same place.

Letting out a wail of frustration, I could practically hear the wretched king laughing at me, watching from some perch he kept high up in his tower, I was sure. Once more, tears stung at my eyes, but I held them back. The last thing I would do was let that man see me cry. I did not know if he was watching or not, but I would pretend he was, and I would never let him see me accept defeat, if only for a moment. I spun around to move again, but what was the point? Up or down, there was nowhere but this room until I figured out what sort of puzzle or trick it was, and how to solve it.

"How do I get out?" I asked aloud, to no one at all, but still slightly expecting a response. There came none. I examined every wall, every inch of them, for any crack or give or hole that could perhaps set me free, but again, nothing. I walked up the staircase slowly, running my hands along the walls beside me, and back down, running my fingers along the stone steps, hoping for a hitch or a catch or a lever, but to no avail. And as my foot landed on the main floor, the clock chimed in the distance. How many hours did I have left now? Did it even matter? There could be a hundred hours left, but I would be no closer to getting out of this room.

I sighed once more, heavily and very loudly, and stared up at the giant stone guardian, my hands on my hips stubbornly. I seemed to be sighing a lot recently, and I imagine that it was just due to the sheer infuriating nature of this place. I never sighed this much before.

"I don't suppose you'd let me out, would you?" I asked the guardian, rather ironically, as I knew stone could not talk. However much I knew though, this place liked to prove it all wrong time and again, as no sooner had I spoken to the beast, had it begun to rumble and tremble something fierce. With it, the earth itself began to shake, and I was knocked off my feet rather quickly as the joints on the giant began to move. It started with its feet, its toes cracking each knuckle by knuckle. Then its knees, bending them once, twice, as debris shifted and fell from them. With each movement, the earth trembled again, and only grew worse and worse as he came to life further. With its elbows, huge chunks of rock fell forth, crashing to the ground and all too close for comfort fell around me, smaller bits flying right past my head. The beast finally gained movement of his head, and rolled it from side to side, cracking his neck and sighing in relief. It stood now, monstrous and intimidating, staring down at me with a stern gaze.

It took me a moment to catch my breath alone, never mind trying to get back up. And if this thing started moving again, I would surely be sent back to the seat of my gown, another scraped elbow or bruised thigh to add to my list of injuries. Its breathing was heavy and blew my hair back and forth with each inhale and exhale it produced, like a strong wind off the coast. I imagined for a moment, a larger beast than this, sitting somewhere just outside our domain, breathing heavily to create our winds and tides, and I thought that things like this were the igniters for stories of gods and deities. My brief daydreaming was cut off abruptly when the giant lunged forward, his arm outstretched, hand open wide, ready to grab at me. In a panicked state now, I rolled backwards, away from it, and on my feet now, ran for the other side of the room, forgetting for a moment that there was no way out. The giant paused for a brief second, its eyes boring into me, his brows furrowing, quite animatedly for something that was supposed to be stone, and he opened his hand wider, flat now, palm up, and laid it on the ground.

"I 'aven't got all day, yeh kno'…." It spoke, a loud, booming voice, like thunder rolling loudly. He—for the creature was now obviously male—knelt down, still holding his hand waiting. I stared up at him, baffled by what he wanted, but in a quick surveillance of my surroundings, saw that he still blocked the exit.

"You want me to get on?" I asked, pointing to his hand. The giant nodded, more pebbles and stone dust falling as it did, and I frowned, confused by all of it. The path behind him did look long and winding, and perhaps with its massive stride, I would get to the other side all the quicker. After a moment of contemplation, I resigned and took a step onto the palm of the giant, holding tightly to its thumb as it rose up to its full height, and I could see everything. The castle; so dark and foreboding, and the empty lands that stretched on for years behind it, tall dead grass and trees in an endless graveyard, it seemed. Panning to the right, there was the labyrinth behind me, and every obstacle I have so far overcome.  
It was relieving to see that I had indeed accomplished a lot, even though I now no longer knew how much time I had left. Further right, there was a tiny village, or what remained of it, anyway. It was only the foundation now, and the sight alone depressed me-reminded me of home, in a way. This broken city went on for a while, and here and there, I could see something or someone moving around in its ruins, scavengers, no doubt, or really large black birds. They seemed interchangeable at times, and I puzzled over which one was right until the giant and I had gotten too far away to see them. Now, I could see more plains, grasping at what little life it had left, and I wondered how behind the other statue, there seemed to be life and vibrancy, where here, everything was the same; brown and decaying. I wondered if I had picked the wrong direction, but decided that the other option was a trick. Since this had been the constant, and continued to be, I was on the right track.

I faced forward now, and could see the end of the path, and a forest that waited for it. And beyond the forest lay my destination. Over a broken section of wall, there was the ocean. Blue-black in color, white capped waves crashing on silver sands, a red sky with the slowly setting sun behind it. My heart lurched, ached for it, and I reveled in the fact that if I made it through the forest, I would be in the home stretch. Once we reached the end of the road, the giant knelt down, surprisingly smooth considering around him everything trembled with the slightest twitch, and laid his hand down to let me off. I turned and looked up at him, glad that he had decided to wait until I had got far enough away before he moved again.

"Thank you, giant. I'm sorry I was rude earlier…you startled me is all." I said, hoping the apology would be enough. I imagine it is the terrifying creatures that are often the most misunderstood. Though sometimes they are genuinely terrifying, this one was not. He was just doing his job. Nodding, but keeping silent otherwise, the giant gestured for me to go on, and I obeyed, turning and heading into the forest.

* * *

The first thing I noticed about this new place was how dark it was. With a thick grey fog and limited light creeping through the tangled treetops, it was nearly impossible to see where I was going. I could see a path though, and instead of trying to find a better way out, I chose to simply follow it. It was far better to just follow this one part than deviate and get myself lost. The further I got into the woods, the more noises I began to hear, and I began to suspect they were not just normal forest noises. Take out the element of wind, and animals that live in trees or on the ground, there were some things that just didn't make sense. A strange rustling in the bushes every now and then, a call that sounded neither animal or human, something that sounded like a laugh, and a screech that echoed from far away, that repeated every few minutes. I was definitely on edge, my eyes darting everywhere they possibly could in order to maybe catch what was playing with my senses.

Every so often, I would think I saw a shadow dart in my peripheral, but no sooner would I look to investigate, would it be gone. I began to think this forest was haunted, thanks to all the strange activity, and though I knew that the King would get a sick satisfaction out of my being scared, I was indeed growing scared. But I marched onward, keeping the thought of freedom fresh in my mind. I would be away from the king; from his castle and its stupid goblins…I would finally get off the island, so confining and tiny, that everyone seems to just accept as an absolution. I would be able to do what I want, when I want, and dream as much or as little as I like. No one would tell me what to do, or where to do, or criticize or judge, or tell me that I was wrong for wanting something more. I wouldn't have to look at these ridiculous people in bird masks following me through the trees anymore either.

I paused…bird-people following me through the trees was not something I had noticed before. My stomach lurched and I clenched my fists. So I was indeed being followed. Just what I needed…and here I thought that these woods themselves were the obstacle.

"Hello?" I called, waiting for some sort of response. There was none.

"Hello? I know someone is there…" I said, crossing my arms as I waited. Still nothing.

"This is silly. I know you're there…just come out." I demanded. No one was going to be stalking me any time soon, that was for sure. But still there came no response. I sighed and continued walking. Keeping alert to any change around me. I knew they were there, whoever they were, but it just made me a little sad that I only noticed them when I had stopped paying attention to my surroundings. How long had they been following me without my noticing them?

I pretended to lose focus again, started humming softly to seem distracted, and sure enough, there they were; poking their heads out of bushes or around tree trunks, dodging in and out quickly, being as stealthy as they could, but keeping certain there was a set of eyes on me at all time. I could not count how many there were of them, but they were many. It was unsettling at best. I could handle one, but not dozens. I kept on this way for some time, trying to gain a better judgment of what they were up to. So far, it just seemed that they were watching me, and so long as they just kept it at that, I would be fine. In fact, if they just kept it at that, I would feel rather safe, knowing that the worst of my problems here were a bunch of weird things wearing masks, that kept a safe distance and watched me progress through the forest. I thought of it as having my own little line of defense…unless they became the thing I would have to defend myself against. Then I would be in trouble. Still, they were not bothering me now, so I ignored them.

The bird-people seemed to have their own form of communication…they provided much of the coo's and howls that I had heard throughout my travels, they hooted sometimes as well, mimicking owls, but once they hooted, the whole lot of them would fall silent for several minutes, and when they would return, they would be somewhere else entirely. I had made a game of trying to figure out where they would pop up next after a hoot. These woods were winding and tiresome, and doing this kept me entertained, quite frankly. I began once more, to dream, making up theories in my head about who these masked men were, what their purpose was, where they came from. In the time that passed while walking, I had developed elaborate adventures the group had been on that led them to the forest. Unfortunately, it had brought me to the conclusion that many of the shadows I had seen throughout my own journey were them. In the winding corridors, at the top of the walls, in the ruins I saw when I was with the giant…I wondered how long they had been following me. And even more so, who they were working for.

Perhaps they acted as eyes for the king. Some followed me, some reported back to him, or he enchanted their masks so they literally were his eyes. An intricate system of spies, watching me carefully as I worked out his maze. That actually irritated me. I knew he would likely be keeping tabs on me, but I would have just assumed he would check in every once in a while. Show up at random, make some snide comment, and be on his way.

Upon considering everything, and going straight from dreaming to theorizing, to being legitimately angry at the king once more, I did not have time to realize that the bird-men were doing something entirely different, and in fact, had other motives than watching me.

They had been herding me, it turned out. I did not realize it, but I had stepped off the path ages ago, and in my dreaming, had begun to follow their hoots and cries, rather than the path laid out for me. And not only were the creatures behind me, but they were ahead of me, and to the side, and above me as well. It was very clever on their part. And very stupid on mine…I could kick myself for not paying attention like I should have been. I only realized they had done so when I had come to a circular clearing in the woods, and all of their coos and callings stopped.

I had only realized I was in trouble when I was alone.

One by one, the bird men appeared. Dropping down from the trees, stepping out from the shadows, rolling out from behind the bushes, at least twenty of them all together. They were all very tall, at least two heads above me, and cloaked in long black tattered capes. They wore black trousers and boots with brass buckles under the cloaks, and a black shirt with silver buttons at the collar. At the shoulders, the cloaks were feathered, to give more to the illusion of birds, and they wore the hoods of the cloaks up, with edges that came to a point rather than staying rounded. Under the hoods were their masks, large and black as the rest of their ensembles, the edges were designed after the splayed wings of a bird, and they sported large stylized beaks where the nose should be. Having only a half mask, they wore dark red cloth across their mouths, and their hands were gloved with matching fabric and color. From afar, the effect was that they looked like large birds with blood stained talons and beaks. If they were going for terrifying, it definitely worked. They moved until they edged the clearing, surrounding me completely, making it impossible for me to run.

One in particular, who had gold trim around the edges of his cape in a swirling pattern, and silver piercings in his ears from the lobe to the very top, pushed his hood back just slightly and stepped forward. A piece of brown hair fell out as he did so, and laid across the top of his mask, and I could see as he stepped into the light, that while they looked pretty human under the costumes up until this point, they were not. While they were gloved, their hands far more resembled a birds talons than hands, and their eyes were a crimson red rimmed with thick lashes made thicker by black paint. I imagined the effect was to completely shade their eyes, and from afar it worked, but up close, one could see the unpainted skin between the mask and their eyes, and the tone was something of a bronze color. Still, aside from the goblin king, they were the closest thing I had seen to a human in the weeks I had been away from home.

This one, who I assumed would be their leader as he was the one to step forward, stared at me in silence for a long time, and I could not help but feel like I was on trial. He finally spoke as the clock chimed from far away. Another hour gone. And I still had no clue of how many I had left. The bird-man heard the chime though, and they all cocked their heads to listen before turning back to me with more stern expressions than before.

"What are you doing here, outsider?" The leader asked, his voice rough and low. I was actually a bit taken back. I wasn't sure what I was expecting him to say, but it wasn't that. And I surely wasn't expecting him to sound so normal. Mind you, his voice was muffled by his masks, but he sounded pretty normal.

"Running the Labyrinth….would there be any other reason for my being here?" I asked, thinking that it was such a strange question to ask when I was sure the only people that came through here were runners. The man tilted his head to the side just slightly, and I had a feeling my answer confused him.

"What's your name, outsider?" He asked, stepping closer.

"Sarah. Why do you need to know?" I asked, sounding a bit irritated. What was the point of this? Why had they been tracking me the whole time, if they had no idea who I was? My answer though, seemed to satisfy, and the surrounding members of this group began to buzz, talking to each other in low voices.

"You aren't supposed to be here." He said, his tone suggesting he was still confused over the fact that I said I was running the Labyrinth.

"This place hasn't had any association with that maze of the Kings in eons. You should leave." He said, and that infuriated me more.

"What do you mean, I'm not supposed to be here? You brought me here!" I said, throwing my arms in the air, annoyed with the man.

"Yes. But we thought you were someone different. We only guide the lost here, not people who have done this before." He said, confusing and irritating me further. I scowled at the man and crossed my arms over my chest, giving him a hard glare.

"Do you have a boss or someone I could talk to? Maybe he'd be of more assistance." I inquired, thinking that if he had someone to report to, they would certainly be able to help out. To maybe clear up this giant misunderstanding. It was clearly that, as I had never been here before, and all of their cryptic words and nonsense was really driving me mad. The bird man nodded and turned around abruptly, stalking back into the forest as the others made for the trees and shadows once more. I followed, assuming that was what he wanted me to do, and he lead me to the outskirts of a bog that produced the single foulest stench I have ever had the displeasure of experiencing. He seemed to be unbothered by it, and I imagined he kept something under the beak of his mask to dull his senses, and he proceeded forward, over a stone bridge and past the burbling cesspool of green sludge like waters and muck covered rocks. Even breathing through my mouth did not help, so half way across the bridge, I opted to just hold my breath in favor of trying to work my breathing out so I could not smell it. But the fumes combined with lack of oxygen made me dizzy, so I had to exhale.

Across the bridge at last, we dove back into the forest and within a few hundred feet, came to what looked like an old guard house. There was no castle or manor though that it would be attached to, which was strange. It was just a house, in the middle of the woods, covered in dying ivy. The bird man knocked on the door thrice before opening it, and ushering me inside. The single floor house was dimly lit with one tiny candle on the table, but he snatched it up and proceeded down a flight of stairs in the back. This lead to a surprisingly large dug out—a secret base of sorts, and another wooden door that lead to another room. It was one large stereotype; it turned out, a group of bandits having an underground hideout. It was almost chuckle worthy. Behind the other door, I was immediately greeted by a large sheep dog who had decided its best course of action was to pounce me, and was promptly chided by a shrill voiced fox wearing a feathered cap and pumpkin pants. There was no way that any of this was real, and I began to wonder if I somewhere along the way through the forest hit my head and passed out.

It was strange though, that both the fox and the dog seemed so familiar, and even stranger, when the sense of déjà vu was confirmed, and the fox called my name excitedly.


End file.
